I Know You
by Meaghan13
Summary: Harry has grown distant from Draco in the years they've spent together after graduating from Hogwarts.


Harry stood in the kitchen at the stove, holding a cast iron pan in one arm, flipping vegetables with expert skill.

Draco leaned back on the fraying couch, his nose stuck far in the editorial section of the newspaper, sneering.

The same flat, two different worlds.

Draco set down his newspaper and stood up, but Harry heard nothing over the popping and sizzling of the peppers and onions in the pan. Draco stepped lightly over to Harry, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind.

"How are you?" Draco murmured into Harry's ear. Harry remained focused on his vegetables.

"I'm fine." He muttered back, displaying no interest.

Draco kissed the ear he whispered in. "Are you sure? You seem… tense."

"I'm fine." Harry repeated, turning his head slightly to avoid Draco's kiss.

"Come here." Draco whispered. "Come here."

Harry set his pan down on the stove and let Draco put his thick arms around his scrawny frame in what was meant to be a proper hug, though he let his own thin arms fall limply at his sides. Draco kissed him again, on his cheek this time. He could smell the peppermint tea on his tongue, Draco's weakness; sweet drink for a tough guy. Draco put his nose to Harry's and stared into his eyes, forest green against the sea. He kissed him on the lips. Harry tasted the peppermint, and normally the thought of Draco's guilty pleasure that he shared with no one but him would pull him in, entrance him, and he'd kiss him back, but not tonight. Draco kissed him again and once more, his arms pulling a nonresponsive Harry even closer to him. He kissed him again and pulled away, exasperated.

"What's gotten into you?" he said in a frustrated tone.

"I'm fine, really, I am." He replied.

"No, Harry, you aren't. Don't think I don't know you. Something is going on." Harry sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get away from this without giving a real explanation. Draco did, in fact, know him well.

"I'm just… I feel as if our relationship isn't the same as it was before."

"Well, of course it isn't. We hated each other, in case you need your memory jogged… Potter." He tacked Potter on the end of the sentence with a smile in a way that was supposed to be an endearing reminder of their school days spent at Hogwarts where they had first met, but to Harry it was no more than yet another justification of the doubtful feelings he was having about their relationship.

Harry forced a smile (Draco recognized the absurd plasticity of it.) "Well, I—I don't know if I necessarily mean it in a way such as that—"

"Well what do you mean? Spit it out, then!" Draco snapped, losing patience quickly.

"You see? You are so easily agitated. I didn't mean to upset you and I feel like I've been doing a lot of that lately."

"Oh no, no. Potter, I love you. Don't think anything otherwise. I could never stay mad at you." Draco moved in for another kiss, and Harry turned away yet again to avoid his lips.

"Don't call me Potter."

Draco looked shocked, as if Harry had hit him in the stomach.

"Oh, I'm, I'm sorry. I was only messing. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings—"

"No, Draco, you see, that's just the thing. You didn't hurt my feelings. You don't hurt my feelings. You've been great to me and all I do is grow more and more distant and I hate myself for it because you blame yourself."

Draco again looked as if he'd been hit, harder this time, his face flushing red.

"Harry, no. Harry, come here." He took Harry in his arms, and this time Harry let him. "I don't blame myself, and I don't blame you. I'm not angry with you for being distant. You've been through a lot these last few years, and people need their time. How could I be upset about such a thing?"

"I don't know. I don't. I just feel awfully horrid about it because I think you are unhappy." Harry muttered, looking at nothing in particular, trying to hide the tears filling his eyes.

Draco grabbed Harry's chin and tipped it up towards him and looked him sincerely in the eyes: "As long as I'm with you, I will never be unhappy."

Harry kissed him then. Really kissed him, a kiss one can only find between two lovers who have been through years and years of turmoil together. Draco kissed him back again and again; Harry's glasses falling onto the floor and being stepped over as Draco pushed Harry against the wall, kissing him, strong and fervent. Harry found Draco's hands traveling up the back of his thighs. Harry kissed him all the while, removing Draco's jeans as Draco removed Harry's shirt. Draco then pushed Harry into the wall again, using whole body this time: kissing him, hard, with his lips, tracing his teeth with his peppermint tongue, holding his head in his hands and pushing his pelvis against Harry's. Draco pulled away from Harry momentarily (Harry fighting to keep his lips pressed to Draco's mouth as long as he possibly could) to pull his shirt over his head. Harry's eye widened and he stopped in his tracks.

He gasped. The moon shining in through their window fell onto Draco's muscular, alabaster chest, perfectly highlighting the scars he was covered in from the base of his neck down to his naval that Harry himself had inflicted upon him, using the sectumsempra curse on him in year six at Hogwarts in the boys' bathroom. Harry had seen Draco naked many a time, but in light of the recent discussion they'd had, this brought on all new guilt. Draco tried to grab Harry's hands and pull him back in, but Harry wanted nothing to do with that. He put his hand to his gaping mouth and shook his head, looking like he wanted to scream but couldn't. He walked away from the wall and into the kitchen, not making a sound. A naked Draco followed him and tried to put an arm around him. Harry shrieked, turning around and throwing a glass that had been on the counter over Draco's head, hitting the wall behind him and shattering.

Draco tried to be the voice of reason, and he did not prevail. "Harry—Harry, it's okay. I'm okay. Harry—"

"Draco, don't you see?" Harry screamed. He had another glass in his hand. "I hurt you! I hurt you then and I'm hurting you now. I can't do any of this right!" He threw the glass then, shrapnel ricocheting off the wall and hitting Draco on the backs of his legs. "I'm a monster."

Then he broke just like the glass cups he had thrown. His eyes fell to the ground, his knees gave out and he fell to the floor. Draco ran to him, picking him up—Harry not shrieking at his touch any longer. Harry slammed his fists into Draco's stomach angrily; and he then kissed Draco's chest, he kissed every scar and he cried, repeating nothing but "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." over and over again; his tears falling onto Draco's breastbone. Draco didn't try to kiss him or talk him down—he let Harry apologize unnecessarily over and over again, didn't shush him, didn't try to clean up the glass; he just rubbed his back, let him hit his chest, let him cry, and let him weep on his shoulder with no judgment because that is what Harry needed to do to feel better, and Draco recognized that—he knew Harry , after all.


End file.
